headlong 69/?
Dec. 31st, 2011 12:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
januarylight“Seriously? Fine, never mind. It was nothing, it was nobody.” Derek isn’t backing down. “It was a dude I know from class. I don’t even know what you’re talking about with the other thing. Touched my arm? How the fuck would I even remember that?”
“I want to know who you’re around. You’re going to have to start paying attention.” Derek is lounging back in his chair, looking moody, like he thinks he’s James Dean or something. He really isn’t. This is not attractive; this is freaking Stiles out.
Stiles holds up a fist, two fingers extended, pressed together. “You realise we’re this close to Maury, right? It’s too soon for this level of creepiness.”
“Take it or leave it.”
“Unfair,” Stiles says. “So unfair!”
“You’re friends with Scott,” Derek says. “You should be used to this.”
“Scott isn’t this weird.”
“Scott isn’t in this position.”
“What position’s that?”
Derek picks up his fork again, but he doesn’t eat, puts it down after catching himself fiddling with it. He looks straight at Stiles but his eyes are blank. “I’m a relatively new alpha with a pack that barely has enough members to qualify. I need to expand. I need a mate. You aren’t suitable. This isn’t right. We shouldn’t be doing this at all.”
“Oh. You don’t want to—“ Stiles doesn’t have a question to ask; he just wants Derek to take it back.
“Look, I like you,” Derek says. “Obviously. This isn’t a criticism.”
“Okay,” Stiles says. “But—“
“But it isn’t a good idea, either. We shouldn’t get too involved.”
Stiles doesn’t have enough experience to be sure, but he really doubts he has that kind of self-control, and if Derek wanted somebody capable of restraint he probably should have picked someone who had the faintest idea what he was doing with any of this, besides jumping on Derek like he was the last vibrator at the hen-party.
Not that Stiles is a hen; Stiles is a total stag.
“Uh—“ Stiles says, because he doesn’t know how to counter that without sounding pathetic, or ridiculous, or way too into Derek. He presses his hands between his knees. “So you don’t want to – you don’t think we should do this again?”
“We can,” Derek says.
That’s not an answer, but – it doesn’t need to be, because Derek has already made it clear that he doesn’t think they should do this again, and that they’re going to anyway. Stiles has trouble getting enough air for a second. This is maybe the stupidest thing he’s ever done, and he’s done a lot of stupid things, the worst of them very recently. He doesn’t care. He’s doing it anyway.
“Okay,” he says. “Okay. So what do you want me to do?”
“What I said,” Derek says, surly, like he already knows Stiles isn’t going to agree.
“Okay,” Stiles says, and Derek’s eyebrows rise, surprised. “I can do that, as long as you’re not going to be weird about it.” Derek’s eyebrows flatten into a straight line. “Like, you don’t get to go all wolfy on my TA because he hands me a sheet of paper.” Derek rolls his eyes. “Reasonable,” Stiles says firmly, poking his finger in Derek’s face. Derek swoops forward, taking the tip between his teeth, but Stiles pulls it away quickly, unwilling to be distracted. “I know you can do it.”
“Whatever,” Derek says, and “fine,” when Stiles insists. “Speaking of which, I don’t care what Lydia is doing, you can’t be around Stephanie at all.”
“Why not?” If anything, Stiles would have expected Derek to focus on Stacey. He isn’t going to remind Derek of that whole mess if Derek’s willing to let it go, though.
“She’s a rival wolf, even if she isn’t an alpha. She belongs to another pack, and consorting with her weakens our ties.”
“Consorting,” Stiles scoffs, but Derek glares him down.
“I’m letting Lydia slide because she’s having a tough time right now.”
“What,” Stiles demands, “with what?”
“But I can’t make the same allowances for you. There are different expectations for you as my lover.”
Stiles wants to ask what those expectations are, but he’s struck dumb by the word: lover. He’s somebody’s lover. He’s Derek’s lover. He feels a strange thrill. He feels sick.
It’s probably just the giddy excitement but he can’t be sure, so he swallows everything down, and even if that’s all it is – Christmas. He doesn’t want this to be like Christmas, with the happy puking. Scott would never let him live it down.
Derek’s watching him, his short breaths, the flush on his cheeks.
“So,” Stiles says, tries again. “So what happens if I bump into Stephanie on the stairs? Blood feud?”
“Reasonable,” Derek says smartly. “If you try hard enough I expect you can manage it.”
“Our definition of the word may differ,” Stiles says.
“Not that much.”
“Yeah,” Stiles says, optimism bubbling up. “We’ll be okay.”
Stiles thinks about going back to his breakfast, but Derek reaches out and grabs his thumb. “Everything you do is going to reflect on me,” he says.
“Everything everyone does.”
“Particularly you. Just keep it in mind.”
“Okay,” Stiles agrees, after thinking it over for a second. See, they can both be reasonable. This is going to work out perfectly.
Derek tugs him out of his chair and onto Derek’s lap, feeling their way into a kiss, Derek’s hands on Stiles’ face. “Same goes for her pack,” Derek mumbles.
“Okay,” Stiles agrees, warmed by the thought that Stephanie’s human friends can be part of her pack, too.
“And Stacey.”
“Whatever, fine,” Stiles says, pulling back. “Within reason.”
Derek grunts, moves back in. “There’ll be more,” he says between slow licks. “I just don’t know what yet.”
“Making it up as you go?”
“Yeah,” Derek says, pausing to look at Stiles directly. “I don’t have a fucking clue what we’re doing.”
“Okay,” Stiles sighs, pleased that he isn’t the only one, and loops his leg around the back of Derek’s chair, drawing himself as close to Derek as he can and letting himself forget there’s anything here that might possibly be a problem. This is perfect, for the moment.
“I want to know who you’re around. You’re going to have to start paying attention.” Derek is lounging back in his chair, looking moody, like he thinks he’s James Dean or something. He really isn’t. This is not attractive; this is freaking Stiles out.
Stiles holds up a fist, two fingers extended, pressed together. “You realise we’re this close to Maury, right? It’s too soon for this level of creepiness.”
“Take it or leave it.”
“Unfair,” Stiles says. “So unfair!”
“You’re friends with Scott,” Derek says. “You should be used to this.”
“Scott isn’t this weird.”
“Scott isn’t in this position.”
“What position’s that?”
Derek picks up his fork again, but he doesn’t eat, puts it down after catching himself fiddling with it. He looks straight at Stiles but his eyes are blank. “I’m a relatively new alpha with a pack that barely has enough members to qualify. I need to expand. I need a mate. You aren’t suitable. This isn’t right. We shouldn’t be doing this at all.”
“Oh. You don’t want to—“ Stiles doesn’t have a question to ask; he just wants Derek to take it back.
“Look, I like you,” Derek says. “Obviously. This isn’t a criticism.”
“Okay,” Stiles says. “But—“
“But it isn’t a good idea, either. We shouldn’t get too involved.”
Stiles doesn’t have enough experience to be sure, but he really doubts he has that kind of self-control, and if Derek wanted somebody capable of restraint he probably should have picked someone who had the faintest idea what he was doing with any of this, besides jumping on Derek like he was the last vibrator at the hen-party.
Not that Stiles is a hen; Stiles is a total stag.
“Uh—“ Stiles says, because he doesn’t know how to counter that without sounding pathetic, or ridiculous, or way too into Derek. He presses his hands between his knees. “So you don’t want to – you don’t think we should do this again?”
“We can,” Derek says.
That’s not an answer, but – it doesn’t need to be, because Derek has already made it clear that he doesn’t think they should do this again, and that they’re going to anyway. Stiles has trouble getting enough air for a second. This is maybe the stupidest thing he’s ever done, and he’s done a lot of stupid things, the worst of them very recently. He doesn’t care. He’s doing it anyway.
“Okay,” he says. “Okay. So what do you want me to do?”
“What I said,” Derek says, surly, like he already knows Stiles isn’t going to agree.
“Okay,” Stiles says, and Derek’s eyebrows rise, surprised. “I can do that, as long as you’re not going to be weird about it.” Derek’s eyebrows flatten into a straight line. “Like, you don’t get to go all wolfy on my TA because he hands me a sheet of paper.” Derek rolls his eyes. “Reasonable,” Stiles says firmly, poking his finger in Derek’s face. Derek swoops forward, taking the tip between his teeth, but Stiles pulls it away quickly, unwilling to be distracted. “I know you can do it.”
“Whatever,” Derek says, and “fine,” when Stiles insists. “Speaking of which, I don’t care what Lydia is doing, you can’t be around Stephanie at all.”
“Why not?” If anything, Stiles would have expected Derek to focus on Stacey. He isn’t going to remind Derek of that whole mess if Derek’s willing to let it go, though.
“She’s a rival wolf, even if she isn’t an alpha. She belongs to another pack, and consorting with her weakens our ties.”
“Consorting,” Stiles scoffs, but Derek glares him down.
“I’m letting Lydia slide because she’s having a tough time right now.”
“What,” Stiles demands, “with what?”
“But I can’t make the same allowances for you. There are different expectations for you as my lover.”
Stiles wants to ask what those expectations are, but he’s struck dumb by the word: lover. He’s somebody’s lover. He’s Derek’s lover. He feels a strange thrill. He feels sick.
It’s probably just the giddy excitement but he can’t be sure, so he swallows everything down, and even if that’s all it is – Christmas. He doesn’t want this to be like Christmas, with the happy puking. Scott would never let him live it down.
Derek’s watching him, his short breaths, the flush on his cheeks.
“So,” Stiles says, tries again. “So what happens if I bump into Stephanie on the stairs? Blood feud?”
“Reasonable,” Derek says smartly. “If you try hard enough I expect you can manage it.”
“Our definition of the word may differ,” Stiles says.
“Not that much.”
“Yeah,” Stiles says, optimism bubbling up. “We’ll be okay.”
Stiles thinks about going back to his breakfast, but Derek reaches out and grabs his thumb. “Everything you do is going to reflect on me,” he says.
“Everything everyone does.”
“Particularly you. Just keep it in mind.”
“Okay,” Stiles agrees, after thinking it over for a second. See, they can both be reasonable. This is going to work out perfectly.
Derek tugs him out of his chair and onto Derek’s lap, feeling their way into a kiss, Derek’s hands on Stiles’ face. “Same goes for her pack,” Derek mumbles.
“Okay,” Stiles agrees, warmed by the thought that Stephanie’s human friends can be part of her pack, too.
“And Stacey.”
“Whatever, fine,” Stiles says, pulling back. “Within reason.”
Derek grunts, moves back in. “There’ll be more,” he says between slow licks. “I just don’t know what yet.”
“Making it up as you go?”
“Yeah,” Derek says, pausing to look at Stiles directly. “I don’t have a fucking clue what we’re doing.”
“Okay,” Stiles sighs, pleased that he isn’t the only one, and loops his leg around the back of Derek’s chair, drawing himself as close to Derek as he can and letting himself forget there’s anything here that might possibly be a problem. This is perfect, for the moment.
